


Once upon a

by beautifulwhensarcastic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Ballet Dancer Steve, De-Aging Peggy, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Steglings, old cars and unhelpful Natasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulwhensarcastic/pseuds/beautifulwhensarcastic
Summary: A collection of various, short drabbles.





	1. I gotta put her in the water   (Steve/Peggy)

**Author's Note:**

> To procrastinate some more (instead of writing my current projects) I decided to put together all my tumblr drabbles. Usually it's pure fluff, occasionally more feelings, and sometimes smutty.
> 
> Drabbles focus on Peggy/Steve, Bucky/Peggy/Steve, Bucky/Peggy, or Bucky/Steve. Yes, there's not much variety with me when it comes to pairings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bad memory fades.
> 
> Peggy, Steve and their kids spend a day at the beach.

“I gotta put her in the water!”

Steve’s voice resonates with an echo that pierces through Peggy, making her chest hurt. A cold wave spreads through her limbs. 

Suddenly the silver flecks shimmering in the water seem to be turning black. A reminiscence of the dark control room. The soft swish of the ocean waves becomes a static in the radio. 

“Noooo!” The scream, which Peggy never let herself cry out, not even that day, now resounds with the happiest of giggles. 

It’s that cackle and the soft, low laugh following, that pull Peggy out of the dark flashback. 

She blinks once. Twice. The teal memory disperses and she finds herself back on the sunsoaked beach. Light and warm. There are footprints in the wet sand. Small ones peppered all around and a few left by much bigger feet. 

For all the squealing and wiggling, Sophie looks positively delighted with being carried toward the water. 

Her small body seems so fragile within Steve’s arms, but Peggy knows what havoc that little creature can evoke and how much she can endure. 

“Into the water with you!” Steve bellows. Then tightens his hold on Sophie and dunks in with her. 

A big wave covers them and for a second Peggy’s heart stops, only to flutter happily a moment later when they emerge. Spluttering water and laughing even harder. 

Peggy shakes her head in amusement when Sophie climbs Steve’s back and stands wobbly on his shoulders, using him as a diving plank to jump off. 

Six years old and fearless.  Making them worry a little, but mostly making them proud. And definitely making her godfather despair. 

Peggy startles suddenly, feeling a cold, sticky touch on her calf. She looks down, her surprised gaze meeting the pair of the bluest, most mischievous eyes. 

Jamie’s face is covered in melted ice cream and sand. So is his belly and hands. His bum, however, isn’t covered at all. Peggy can swear she put the boardies on him a few miutes ago. For the fourth time today! 

He looks very pleased with himself and Peggy sighs in exasperation.

“You know what?” She looks at him, barely constraining her smile when he grins. 

“Into the water with you too!” 

James squeals happily when she picks him up and runs toward the ocean. 


	2. Rascal Business  (kids Bucky/Peggy/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids Bucky, Peggy and Steve.

“How much?!” Chester Phillips frowns so hard Steve’s sure his brows will fall off any moment. And attack them, chasing away from his property.

Neither he nor Bucky were excited about the prospect of cleaning Mr Phillips’ house, but Peggy was adamant.

“Effectiveness can’t be overpriced, Mr Phillips,” Peggy says in a tone as if she was a professional artisan with at least twenty years of experience on the market. 

Phillips studies her closely - a rather short girl in a blue dress and an Ivy cap she probably stole from her older brother. He’s quite sure the girl can’t be more than twelve, but what does he know about kids nowadays? 

They are cheeky, for sure. 

“Whence the idea that I would pay you for something that I can do myself?” He asks gruffly, though his frown seems to lessen. Marginally.

“Because that’s a decent thing to do.” Steve retorts, looking at their neighbour with a somewhat unrelenting fortitude. So much fight in such a scrawny body.

That unexpected stance draws Phillips attention enough that he doesn’t hear Bucky’s muttered, “-because you don’t do it, obviously.” 

Peggy kicks Bucky then steps forward, facing their neighbour with hands crossed over her chest.

“Yes, we’re not the cheapest, but we provide house _and_ garden cleaning. The latter definitely needing some work judging by what we can see. However, if you sum up buying cleaning supplies, sacrificing your own time and health, and all the baseball games you will miss while working on it all by yourself, Sir, you’ll find that it’s actually cheaper to hire us.” 

Steve watches the staring battle between his resolute, small friend and an old, grumpy man with growing fascination. And a bit of fear as well. Meanwhile, Bucky’s already scanning the garden around Phillips’ house, assessing what needs to be done - he knows Peggy will have it her way. 

“Fine,” Phillips gives in. “It’s not that much for three kids.”

“The wage is per person, Sir,” Peggy says lightly and, before Phillips falls down from a certain heart attack or throws them out, she marches forward, motioning for the boys to follow her with their cleaning supplies. 

“Of course it is.” Chester grumbles, watching the little red wagon equipped with basic cleaning supplies roll down the uneven path toward his house. 

“But I’m not feeding you, little rascals!” 


	3. Mayonnaising about the kitchen   (Steve/Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy can't comprehend Steve's disgusting eating habits.

Years of poverty and hoarding scraps of food like a squirrel for winter have embroidered on Steve so deeply he still tends to stockpile. He also eats whatever’s at hand, much to Peggy's dismay.

During the war, or even before it, back in Brooklyn, he and Bucky never dared to cringe at the ingredients that rarely fit together. They were too hungry to whine about the flavor after few days of walking with empty bellies.  

21st century brought more possibilities, at least for Steve, but he still lacks a sophisticated palate.

Honstly, he doesn’t care. Unless he’s cooking for Peggy, but he does everything for her with double effort and dedication.

When it comes to making snacks for himself he simply shrugs and says he’s not picky, while Tony pokes at his weird sandwiches with mild fear - and more fascination, as if he found a new alien product to examine.

“Seriously?” Peggy looks at Steve with disgust as he puts sliced apples on bread and covers it in mayonnaise.

“Hmm?” he licks the blade clean, pretending not to notice Peggy’s annoyed frown. She hates when he does that.

“Mayonnaise? On apples? On bread?!”

With a flourish she opens the fridge and points at the stocked shelves. “We have a mini grocery store here and you make that-  _that?_ "

Steve merely glances at the fridge, his eyes focused on Peggy as he picks up the blasphemous sandwich and takes a huge bite.

He’s challenging her, eyes twinkling mischievously and a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, irritating Peggy with the smudges of white on his lips, which she finds disgusting.

But they are on Steve’s lips. Soft, warm lips, that ruin the awful image, tempting her to wipe them with her own mouth.

Peggy slams the fridge’s door closed.

“Fuck you and your mayonnaise, Rogers,” she strides over to him and wrests the sandwich out of his hand, throwing it away.

“Well, that’s a new kink,” he chuckles then licks his lower lip, evoking Peggy’s impatient groan right before she puts her hand on the back of his head and pulls him down for a kiss.


	4. Strings of light  (Bucky/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve early morning softness. 
> 
> Implied past Bucky/Peggy/Steve.

Strings of light seem to be woven into strands of Steve’s hair. Shimmering, taking on a palette of shades - silver at the tips and deep gold hidden deeper, closer to the roots. But it’s the play of speckles reflecting from a highly polished metal hovering above Steve’s chest that fascinates Bucky most.

Bucky purposely flicks his wrist and wiggles his metal fingers, watching the gleams dancing across Steve’s light skin.

With a childlike giggle he leans down and chases them with his lips, leaving a trail of soft pecs across Steve’s chest.

“Are you twelve?” Sleepy, raspy voice could perhaps convince one of the feigned disapproval, if not for the smile curving Steve’s lips.  

He stays still, though, only his belly quivering with suppressed laughter as Bucky brushes his mouth over a particularly ticklish spot.

Abruptly lifting his head up, Bucky studies Steve’s face, for a split second confused and alarmed. Moments of uncertainty still happen quite often. When he’s not sure which actions are welcomed and which are not.

Proximity, Steve pointed out numerous times, is something Bucky should explore in his own pace, finding what’s comfortabe for him.

By now, however, he is quite confident in reading Steve’s reactions. Whether it’s caused by the lifetime experience or not, quick look at his face is enough to assess the actual blissful state. 

Bucky snorts in response to the question then moves his hand again, resuming the chase after bright speckles.

Steve’s smile broadens, blue irises peeking from beneath half-closed eyelids lighting up when the sunlight seeping through the blinds disperses, probably blocked by a heavy cloud, causing Bucky to grumble in annoyance.

“I forgot how shitty the weather in New York tends to be,” he mutters, glaring at the window as if the sky should immediately clear up under the weight of his stare.

“You mean the sticky, heavy summers in Brooklyn you used as an excuse to walk around practically half naked?” Steve scoffs at him. “Or the freezing, snowy winters which provided you with opportunities to offer your body heat to willing people?”

“What can I say, I’m a very giving person.” Bucky smirks at him.

“Yeah, if you gave an ounce more, you’d be left without body fluids.”

The remark is all too familiar. Words that Bucky heard once already, now echoing with a warm, pleasant recollection. It takes a moment for him to find the shard of memory stamped with that flirtatious easiness. A particle of the past causing his heart to clench at the vague image of smudged red lipstick.

He’s not sure if the grin forming on his lips is evoked by the words, or the happiness of remembering something solid from the past that’s still mostly lost in a foggy haze.

“You’re quoting Peggy to me now, Punk?” Saying her name brings a tinge of bitterweet regret which Bucky quickly pushes away, focusing on the present.

He doesn’t give Steve a chance to notice the smallest of cringes, just flashes him a bright smile before capturing his lips in a kiss. 

Bucky finds himself always so lost in those kisses.

A surge of emotion that it evokes is an experience Bucky still loves to explore. Having been deprived of it for so long, of any feelings, he’s fascinated and overwhelmed with them. They’re solid, tugging on his heart like an anchor that ties him to the safe shore.

“Damn,” Bucky pants out, finally pulling away and rolling onto his back. “Those were the times. Our body fluids all around Europe.“

“How romantic,” Steve snorts, rolling his eyes. 

He turns on his side and trails his fingers along Bucky’s flesh arm. Playfully tickling the sensitive inside of his palm until Bucky squirms and grips his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Steve props his head on his right hand and looks down at Bucky, whose gaze is fixed on the ceiling. A distant, nostalgic flicker in his eyes which Steve knows so well. He sees it every other day in the mirror. 

Not saying a word, Steve kisses Bucky’s temple and settles down, letting him drown in whatever shards of memories he found himself in now.

With their fingers still entwined and steady breathing lulling him, Steve slowly dozes off. Barely murmuring in response to Bucky’s quiet musings on garter belts.


	5. Skip a beat  (Bucky/Peggy/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dance club AU.

Bright flashes pierce through the darkness. Hundreds of purple, yellow and blue circles pepper the stone walls, descending onto the twirling bodies on the floor.  

The beat pounds pleasantly in Peggy’s head - leave it to Barnes to create something that has her body moving just the right way.

She’s been going through clubs for months, but none seemed good enough to make her a regular. Until she found Shield and a DJ who shows the same knack for darker undertones as Peggy. She knows nothing about the process of making club music, but somehow this one smuggles haunting melodies under the usually annoying beats. 

He lured her in.  

Peggy knows his name is James Barnes, but he prefers being called Bucky. Especially when he makes her come. 

Bucky tastes of salted caramel. He said exactly the same about her when he got down on his knees in the alley behind the club and ruined her. 

Precautiously, she’s not wearing any underwear tonight because Barnes has no respect for fancy undergarments. Somehow Peggy’s not concerned whether they’ll leave the club together again, though she’s adamant on making it to the apartment. His or her own, doesn’t matter much. 

For now she allows him to lead this musical foreplay, for she has no doubt he already spotted her in the crowd. James’ very perceptive and Peggy’s red dress is impossible to miss. 

She moves to the wicked rhythm, mind already filled with flashes of Barnes’ hot mouth against her skin, nipping where her pulse throbs. A drop of sweat trickles down her spine, pleasantly tickling. 

Feeling intent gaze following her moves, Peggy smirks and looks up at the DJ’s podium, unsurprised to find Bucky staring at her. She sways her hips just a tad more. Holding his gaze as she runs her hands up the skintight dress. 

When he slowly drags his gaze away from her body Peggy frowns, but follows his line of sight. A small group on the left has been drawing attention of the crowd for a few minutes now, though Peggy wasn’t paying much attention. 

By the way the members of the group carry themselves on the dancefloor and how smoothly they move around each other it’s clear they’re dancers. The redhead has the fastest, most flexible body Peggy has ever seen. A spiraling flame in the darkness. 

However, it’s the tall, blonde man few steps away that catches Peggy’s interest. Bucky’s as well, apparently. 

She’s seen constructor workers built like that, but none had the graceful agility that guy possesses. Despite his size he doesn’t get in anyone’s way, simply using the space he’s got and making the best of it. Twirling like the lightest ballerina and yet looking like he could snap a person in half like a twig. 

He’s also got the tightest ass.

Peggy convinces herself she’s not blushing when he suddenly looks right at her. Bright eyes, far too clear for the fast-drunk routine most people in the club follow. There are speckles of shimmering dust on his cheeks, but somehow Peggy finds it fucking cute instead of ridiculous. 

With a jaw chiseled like that he could have glitter all over and she still would ride his face with abandon. 

The beat of the music slows down, the basic melody drowning into low hum filling her body with vibrations. Peggy knows it means Bucky’s stepping down and some other DJ replaces him.

The dancer turns away from her, looking at the podium. Peggy notices how he straightens and swallows hard, as if hesitating. It lasts a second, not more, then he’s moving forward, threading through the crowd. 

Bucky’s by the back entrance, already holding the door ajar. That smug smirk on his face Peggy knows all too well. For the first time, however, she’s not sure if it’s addressed to her or the hunk. 

When she finds them a minute later in the alley behind the club - the same in which Barnes fucked her against the wall - they’re already kissing. A clash of shimmering fairness and Bucky’s thrilling dark&dangerous vibe. 

Bucky’s got his fingers in the loops of the other guy’s pants. His mouth opens in an unusually soft gasp as his lower lip gets nipped and shamelessly sucked on. 

Peggy walks over, her pulse faster than when she was dancing. Both men turn their heads her way, but neither moves his hands away from where they’re constantly touching. Peggy understands that haze. 

“Took you long enough,” Bucky laughs, low and husky. He crooks a finger at Peggy, motioning for her to get even closer. “Did you know that Steve here is an actual, professional ballet dancer?” 

She arches a brow and steps closer, deliberately slipping between the two. She leans comfortably against Bucky. “Are you?” she asks Steve, looking up at him. From this close up the gold flecks on his cheeks seem even cuter. 

Peggy’s eyes flutter close for a second when James brushes her hair aside and kisses her neck. 

“Yeah,” Steve rasps out, his voice breaking as he watches them. His gaze shifts to Peggy’s lips. So red. So tempting. Especially parted when she moans at the touch of Bucky’s fingers against the bare skin of her thigh.

“Are there any other areas you’re skilled at as-” 

Steve interrupts her with a kiss that has her toes curling. Combined with Bucky’s tongue flicking her earlobe the same way he teased between her thighs last week, they turn her knees weak. Much too weak for the surroundings they’re in.

Two hands slither under the hem of Peggy’s dress. She’s pretty sure only one belongs to Barnes. 

Steve’s a gutsy man, she thinks. Reckless too, considering his lack of hesitation upon making out with two strangers.  

Peggy clenches her fingers on Steve’s shirt, pulling him closer. Bucky uses the opportunity to sneak his hand over Steve’s hip to grab his ass. The movement makes Steve jerk, rocking his hips into Peggy who, in turn, rubs her ass against Bucky. 

“Fuck, Barnes,” Peggy groans, braking the kiss. She tries to glare at him over her shoulder, but Steve’s mouth sliding down her neck divests her of the cold power. She manages to growl, “Not in the alley again.” 

“Again? There’s a pattern?” Steve snorts. He straightens and shakes his head. “I agree with the lady. Not in the alley. It’s already bad for two, for three it’s fucking disaster.” 

Bucky chuckles, the sound muffled on Peggy’s shoulder where he was trailing kisses. She nudges him and he bites her playfully, squeezing her thigh at the same time. 

Finally he pulls away and sighs.

“Fine. I live two blocks down, if you can make it that far.” He looks at them pointedly. 

Somehow neither of them boasts about self-restraint. 


	6. Her name was Lola  (Steve/Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neighbours AU.

“We could burn it,” Natasha suggests, cocking her head to the side.

The truck on the other side of the hedge is quite old and rusty, and not in the grungy Rolling Stone cover way. 

“I’m not into neighbourly barbecue.” Peggy chose to move here to take a break from people, not to draw attention to herself. Definitely not to make any bonds - friendly, or hostile. Burning that ugly thing could gain her some. 

An enemy out of the car’s owner, but possibly many friends among other neighbours who have to look at this piece of junk daily.

Natasha takes a loud slurp of her now cold, but-still-from-the-big-city, coffee.

“You said your neighbour drives a new pickup,” a little frown creases her forehead. If someone can afford a good car, why would they keep this crap? 

Sentimental value drops below zero, if one scratch can result in gangrene.

“He does. Or she,” Peggy shakes her head.

She saw the blue truck driving away early in the morning, always right before she manages to take a good peek at the driver.

“I don’t even know who lives here. Too quiet for a family, though.”

“What? Carter, you mean to tell me you haven’t yet baked cookies to greet your new, rust-loving neighbours?” Natasha feigns an innocent look, unabashed under Peggy’s glare.  

Peggy’s about to reply when the sound of an engine attracks their attention. A car, a dark blue truck, pulls right into her neighbour’s driveway.

Both Natasha and Peggy tilt their heads slightly, curiously watching. Awaiting to see who will step out of the vehicle. Seconds later the car door opens and someone gets out.

A man. Ruffled hair, trimmed beard, easy smile on his face. He’s wearing a wrinkled, white T-shirt upon which Peggy would frown any other time, but can’t seem to mind it now. Not when it’s so tight in particular spots.

“Ma’am,” he nods at Peggy then at Natasha, greeting her with the same polite, “Ma’am.” 

“Can I help you with something?” He asks, approaching the thick hedge separating their properties. 

When he moves his hand to take off his sunglasses Peggy notices colorful ink on his arm. Partially covered by the sleeve, it looks like a band of red, blue and white circles. On a very huge bicep.

She quickly averts her gaze, but he notices anyway. Corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. He holds her gaze and Peggy tilts her chin boldly, refusing to feel embarrassed. She arches her brows, as if challenging him to make a comment.

The bastard  _fucking_  grins at her.

“We’re trying to comprehend the fondness for decaying aesthetic.” Natasha interrupts them. A cheshire grin plastered on her face.

The man looks at her puzzled then follows the line of her gaze to the scrap taking half of the space on his driveway.

Instead of acting offended, he laughs.

“Yeah,” somewhat ruefully, he turns back to them. “Lola belonged to a dear friend. His family was supposed to take it, but no one ever came. I don’t know anything about repairing cars, but I couldn’t get rid of it.” 

His use of past tense telling, neither Peggy nor Natasha dig for more information. Though it seems the wounds behind that story are already healed, at least partially, for he keeps smiling.

“Lola?” Peggy huffs a laugh. 

“She’s not a showgirl anymore, that’s for sure.” Natasha snorts, shrugging when Peggy kicks her ankle.

“I don’t know” the guy chimes in. “After all, she got your attention. Showstopper that she is.”

Leaning slightly over the hedge, he reaches his hand out for Peggy to take.

“I’m Steve,” he introduces himself, “-and you must be my new neighbour.”

“Peggy.” With a smile she shakes his hand. Then frowns. “How do you know  _I’m_  your neighbour?”

Amusement flickers in his eyes, making Peggy suspicious.

“Saw you yesterday.” Steve tightens his lips for a second, as if suppressing a laugh. “I was fixing the attic window, saw you doing some, uh, I guess exercises? In the backyard?”

“Wh-” Blush spreads over Peggy’s cheeks, quickly turning her face scarlet. Nearly as red as Natasha’s hair.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out for a long moment. A sight exceptionally rare, which Natasha drinks in with great enjoyment.

“You  _watched_ me exercise?!” Peggy nearly screeches. 

She wouldn’t be as outraged, if she was really exercising. However, her plan to stretch and do some joga turned into silly rolling around on the soft grass. Then laying spread eagle and watching the clouds.

“In my defense, I thought you were having a stroke.” Steve says lightly, smirking at her.

Natasha chokes on a snort, spluttering cold coffee. As soon as her cough eases, she bursts out laughing.

Peggy turns even redder, eyes narrowing as she glares at Steve. She could kill him. Yes, she could. Natasha would help her get rid of the body.

“Well,” crossing her arms over her chest, Peggy tries to maintain some composure. “You weren’t much helpfull, if you thought I was about to die.” 

“I’ll do better next time.” Steve flashes her a cheeky grin.  He takes a step back then turns around and starts for his house.

“See you around, Peggy!” He calls over his shoulder.

He jumps vigorously up the few steps to his porch, a movement that catches both Natasha and Peggy’s attention.

Staring at his ass, Natasha whistles low.

“See, now I don’t find this corn hole that bad. It sure has a  _nice_  view.”

“Shut up,” Peggy mutters, though her gaze is glued to the exact same spot. Until Steve closes the door behind him. 

Not a bit remorseful, Natasha continues her assessment of the suddenly increased value of Peggy’s new lifestyle. She leans over the hedge to peek inside Steve’s blue truck.

“Looks spacious enough,” she remarks. “You can ride him in it quite easily.”

“Shut up!” Peggy hisses and swiftly turns on her heels, marching toward her own house. 

“You’re not having a stroke, Carter, are you?” Natasha calls after her, grin never faltering.


	7. Early morning strangers  (Bucky/Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Neighbours AU.

They live in the same building. That’s everything James knows about her. That and the flowery scent lingering on her skin, a delicate fragrance teasing him when she passes him. 

She wears the reddest of lipsticks and he’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined that perfection smeared on her lips, on his lips. The little marks left on his skin, or around his dick. 

Sometimes, when the night at the bar has been exceptionally frustrating, he takes a shower and tires himself out, so he can just pass out on the bed, because dealing with the nightmares that still tend to haunt him would be too much. 

She’s the dazzling, fresh image in the chaos of dimly lit spaces, annoying noises and pushy suggestions. 

He lives off tips, so he allows the game to consume him every night. He flashes smiles and winks, feeds the tipsy, willing customers with bits of promising flirting which result in a nice number of bills filling his pocket. But the moment he leaves the bar into the morning sunlight all business cards and crumpled napkins with scribbled phone numbers end in the garbage. 

He walks home with the hope of passing  _her_  right in front of the building, or on the stairs.

And each day he comes up with a new story about where she might be going. Imagines her conquering the world in her high heels.

He wonders if she does the same. Does she think about him.

Or does she, like old Mrs Hodge who gives him the stink eye whenever she sees him, think he’s a no-good scoundrel on a walk of shame every morning. 

 _If only_ , he snorts.

His life isn’t that exciting.

He’s just a bartender - a job thanks to which he’s able to avoid sleeping at night, when the nightmares and memories are the worst. They still come back during the daylight, but it’s a bit easier to fight them off. 

She would never imagine his left arm is covered in scars, or that he often curls in a ball and sobs with his fingers pressed to the tattoo of a broken red-white-blue shield. 

But she smiles at him and his heart flutters suddenly, his own lips curling in a sincere reciprocation. 

One day, maybe, he will find his voice around her and ask for her name.

Maybe.


	8. Pretty little thing  (Steve/Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> De-Aging Peggy AU.

Peggy throws her phone across the room, quite disappointed it didn’t shatter into tiny pieces, but apparently nothing is as she wants it nowadays. 

After a fruitless and most of all frustrating conversation she’s more tired than when she spent two basically sleepless weeks on a mission back in the day. 

“I’m too fucking old for this shit,” she groans and flops back on the pillow. 

A few white locks fall across Steve’s cheek and he brushes them away with a soft chuckle. 

“Meanwhile, I’m still young and pretty.” Steve smiles smugly, switching the channels on the flatscreen that Tony insisted on installing in Peggy’s room at the nursing home. 

Steve doubts it improves Peggy’s well being in any way, but it for sure makes other residents quite happy. Hank, Bob and Rivka ar regular visitors who like to take over the remote and watch football games - by now Steve knows the word soccer isn’t welcome among that crowd. 

“It’s the only thing you’ve got left, pretty boy,” Peggy snorts at him. “Given that your smarts have gone to waste, clearly.” 

Though her voice is weaker, raspy, the tone she uses when they’re together is the same he remembers from the 40′s. And from his dreams.

Recently, however, Steve has noticed her voice getting smoother. Not only that. Her pale skin started regaining color. A nettle of wrinkles on her left temple has disappeared. Steve has tenderly tucked Peggy’s soft hair behind her ear so many times he knows that web of small lines by heart. They’re gone. 

Her memory is still off and on, but the good moments last much longer.   

There are times when Peggy’s fingers clench firmly on the glass, or around Steve’s hand. 

But he doesn’t say anything aloud. Doesn’t point out she just forcefully threw a cellphone across the room while a month ago she was unable to hold a fork in her hand. 

Tony and Bruce told him not to get his hopes up.  _Fuck ‘em_ , everything in Steve refuses to be cautious about what he sees as a second chance for them. He clings to hope which, possibly, is plain stupid. 

“And yet you like my company. Standards dropping low, Carter?” He nudges her foot with his own. 

To nurses’ great bewilderment, Steve keeps planting himself on Peggy’s bed. Right beside her, though appropriately on top of the covers. Every time he wears a new pair of colourful, funny socks, so Peggy can roll her eyes at him, call him ridiculous and then ask if she can get ones with Wonder Woman’s emblem. 

He got them for her. As well ones printed with his shield. For reasons. 

Peggy tilts her head, resting it against Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’ve always wanted you only for your body, Rogers,” she pats his belly with a chuckle. 


	9. Ordinary day  (Steve/Peggy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family interrupts Director Carter's busy day.

Sitting behind her inconveniently huge desk, which Pepper bought and Peggy accepted with a forced smile, Peggy tries to focus on the documents splayed in front of her. 

It’s difficult, however, with a pair of big blue eyes peeking at her curiously from behind the desk. 

Tiny hands clasped on the edge as the little kid pushes himself on tiptoes to be able to look at her. Normally top of his head barely raches above the desk. His dark hair is ruffled and… Peggy frowns.

“Is that ice cream in James’ hair?” 

Peggy has no idea how someone can get ice cream in their hair, but she has learned that anything can happen when Steve spends the day with kids alone. 

Them casually dropping by, getting comfortable in her office while she handles matters of highest international importance, tends to happen quite often too. She’s sure the urge to see her and make her smile is only half the reason behind it. The other half is Steve being a possessive idiot.   

“Dunno. Possible.” Steve sounds completely unrepentant. 

She glares at him across the room, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s lying on the very expensive, cream leather couch - boots and all. Their one year old daughter sitting on his chest, bouncing happily as he makes silly faces at her. 

Peggy allows herself a longer look before dropping her gaze back to the files, pretending the sight of the two didn’t melt her into a puddle. 

“You will give him a bath tonight,” she says firmly. Peggy found out her professional, no-bullshit tone that puts agents and politicians into line works as effectively on the home ground. 

Well, at least it works on Steve in domestic environment, because in the field he has absolutely no regard for orders. 

“I’ll turn on the sprinklers and let him run around the backyard.” 

Little James squeals in delight at the prospect, instantly turning away from the desk and running happily to Steve. He jumps up onto him, cackling at Steve’s painful grunt. It’s mostly pretended discomfort.

“You will not-” Peggy snaps, but quickly pauses, seeing Steve’s wide grin. 

Bastard. 

Narrowing her eyes, Peggy slowly taps her red fingernails on the polished, oak wood. “Be careful,  _Captain_. There won’t be any cute kids to protect you when I get you alone at night.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise,  _Director_?” Steve smirks, his eyes gleaming mischievously. 

“I suggest you sleep with your shield,” her tone flat, Peggy shifts her attention back to the files on her desk. “I’m still a fast shooter.”


End file.
